Page 36 of Falling Stars

“Yes, sir.”

“I sure am sorry, Baylee.” He gives me a gentle hug with one arm. “Let me call this in and see if anyone reported suspicious behavior on your street in the last day or two.”

While he does that, I call my landlord, Mr. Ulrich, and explain that we got vandalized. When I hang up, I’m even more depressed than before. “So much for getting our deposit back.”

When the sheriff’s done, he tells me he’ll be in touch, and I return to my bedroom. Instead of loading my things to take back to Maverick’s, I stuff trash bags full of destroyed baby gifts and try not to cry as I drag them to the street for garbage pickup. I manage to salvage a few outfits for Leo while Maverick helps me clear out my closet.

Once we’re done, there’s still red paint all over the floor and a little on the walls. “I don’t have anything to clean this.”

“You’ll need paint thinner, but that will pull off the finish from the floor. Let’s call it a day.” He rubs the back of his neck with a wince. “Maybe I can talk to your landlord tomorrow and ask what he wants us to do.”

“It’s my problem, Maverick. You’ve done more than enough to help.”

He gives me a look. “Do you have appointments all day tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I say hesitantly.

“Are you also taking care of an infant?”

“Yeah.”

“And aren’t you bringing some asshole football player lunch too? Seems like you might have your hands full.”

I give him a weary smile and admit defeat. “If you don’t mind calling him, that would be great.”

After we pick up Leo, we head back to the condo. My son’spretty fussy. “I’m going to feed him, so just ignore me and my boob.”

He laughs and mumbles something under his breath I don’t catch. When we get home, I get settled on the couch and cover Leo with a light, cotton blanket to feed him.

“Bay, want some pizza?” Mav calls out from the kitchen.

“Pepperoni, black olives, and mushrooms?”

“Is there any other way to order it?”

“Nope. Because that’s the perfect pizza.”

“Damn straight.”

When Leo’s done eating, I tuck myself away and burp him. The pizza arrives, and Mav places it on the coffee table and hands me a paper plate.

“That was fast,” I say.

He motions to Leo. “Give me the baby so you can eat.”

I’m too tired to argue with him. I hand off my kid and serve us both a few slices. He cradles Leo with one arm while he munches on dinner with the other.

“You’re pretty good with him.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Are you sure holding him won’t hurt your shoulder?”

“He weighs, what, ten pounds?”

“Fourteen.”

“I’ll be fine.” He smiles down at Leo before he takes another bite of food.

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